


Stucky

by felixies



Series: Marvel Headcanons [8]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fanboy Phil Coulson, Gen, Metafiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 03:09:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8311720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felixies/pseuds/felixies
Summary: Never doubt for one second that you are the ultimate fan on the jet. Unless the bigger fan happens to be your boss.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Marvel Headcannon: Coulson does fan fiction, particularly Stucky
> 
> I wrote this years ago, so this was all first season of "Agents of Shield". Before Hydra Ward, before Daisy, before the bionic arm.

The first few weeks as the newest recruit in Coulson's team has not been easy. Training under Agent May as your S.O. has been nothing but hell to pay. In the last mission you nearly gave away the team's position had it not been for Ward and his quick thinking.

As you sulk in your bunk, you open up your laptop and casually browse your writing account.  
Out of all the things that relieves your stress, writing fan fictions seems to work the best.  
Getting inspiration, your fingers fly in excitement over the keys. Before long you have a story about the First Avenger and the Howling Commando. Ready to edit, a knock raps at your door forces you to stop. Closing your laptop May is standing right outside when you open the door.

"Coulson wants to see you. Bring your laptop." Confused by the summons, you comply with no question. You are escorted to his office. May quickly leaves as soon as Coulson dismisses her.  
Walking up the stairs you see the others lounging on the chairs chatting and playing a card game. Reaching the door, you gently knock. 

After a second you turn around ready to walk out before hearing a soft yet solid command, "Have a seat." Clutching your laptop tightly, you wait with much worry. He leans against his desk before he starts, "I understand that you are having a rough time settling in such a new place with a new team. I also understand that there were a few close calls during your missions."

Cutting him off, you reason, "Sir, I know that I'm not doing what I consider my best, and if you want me to leave I understand."

Confused, he asks, "Leave? Why?"

"Isn't that why you called me here, sir?" you ask hesitantly. 

"Oh! No! I just want to make sure you're doing okay. I understand what it’s like to have that new school jitters, being the new kid, not knowing how you fit in with a new group.” He takes a seat next to you. “I have seen you when you're relaxed, and you are a top notch agent. You take a new creativity to fighting. Actually, that's why I called you up here." Going behind his desk, he pulls out a yellow notepad. He hands it to you. Seeing the title up top and scanning what text is written, your brain short circuits.

"I'm don’t understand. What is this?" you ask, looking at the many scratch marks and crossed lines.

He rubs the back of his neck. His bashfulness is too endearing, seeing the boss grow nervous. "I know it's not great, but it's something. Well series of somethings I wrote when I was a kid."

You have to say it. "This is fan fiction."

"Yes," he agrees.

"Of Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers."

"Yes," Coulson shifts. "I think it's called Stucky?"

Stucky? Did he just call the ship Stucky? "Sir?"

"Yes," he smiles.

Your mouth opens and closes like a goldfish before words finally formed. "Why are you showing me this?"

"I need input."

"Why now? Why me?"

Clicking the debriefing screen on, your website is shown. Coulson explains, "In the last few hours, you have gained 20 new followers, 50 likes on your stories, and about 41 more bookmarks. You must be doing something right in your writing, and I want to know what."

Your brain finally catches up. "You need my opinion."

"I was thinking of making my own account under a pseudonym."

"Everyone is going to know. Skye will find it easily. I mean if you found mine that quick, yours will be a walk in the park."

"I know. That's how I learned about your hobby." Instantly that hits you. Skye found you out, which means everyone in the bus knows of your guilty pleasure.

You hesitate, "The team. How long have they all known about my stories?"

Coulson lays it all out. "About two weeks.” These three words sped up your heart rate, as if ready to burst out and leap out of the quinjet with no parachute. “Don't worry. Everyone has their favorites from your stories. Ward appreciates the fight sequences in the adventure stories. Fitz love the tech talk. Simmons and Skye love the romance stories. Even May likes the absurd and random comedy stories."

The last bit leaves you hanging. They knew for two weeks and have said nothing about it you. How else are you going to feel about it? "I'm going to disappear," you solve.

He chuckles, placing his hands on your shoulders. "Relax. That's what I'm trying to get. Calm yourself down and be open to the writing. Believe it or not, they all have started compiling a request list. Simmons has even tried writing some stories herself. It's technical, but she's starting to get there. She might need your help as well." Coulson requests, "So have a look at the writing and tell me what to do to edit. If it's good enough we'll set up a writing account and see how popular I can get."

"You mean your stories, sir."

Coulson chuckles lightly. "Yeah, that too. You're dismissed."

Walking back down the stairs with now a yellow pad and your laptop in hand, you walk over to the bar. Grant and Skye are hanging at the bar while Fitz and Simmons are playing cards at the couches nearby. Placing both items down on the bar top, Grant asks, "Need a drink?"

"If I don't have to do anything tonight or tomorrow, I'll just take the whole bottle," you exhaust.  
Giving you a glass of whiskey, he asks, "You doing alright?"

Gulping down the last of the whiskey, you ask everyone there, "You all knew I wrote?"  
Skye chuckles. "It's kind of hard to not hear you furiously type in your room. We don’t have ceilings."

"Says the girl who hacks computers for a living," Fitz says.

Simmons comes over with her tablet. "Well since you know now, why don't you look at what I've written so far and tell me what to fix."

You cannot believe what is happening. "Honestly, I need to get through this whole notepad first."

Skye takes it from the bar. "Is this Coulson's?"

"Yeah he said he wrote this when he was a kid."

"I call shenanigans," Simmons says. "Look at the penmanship and the vocabulary. The complex sentence structure was not the work of a kid. He wrote this recently."

"I have seen a report Coulson wrote recently," Grant says. "The lettering is exact to what's on the notepad."

"Okay fine. I wrote that last week." Coulson is standing on the stairs. As he walks down he admits, "I didn't want to be seen as a fanboy.”

"Too late, Cap lover," Skye teases.

"Anyways, take a read and tell me what works and what needs to be cut."  
Taking the drink in hand and the notepad over to the couches, you start to read the work. 

"You're not going to make notes?"

"Not on the first read. Seems a bit unfair if I do it right away." Your eyes scan further down the pad. "Do I have any missions the next few days?"

"You do not," Coulson confirms.

You smile. "Excellent."

The density of the pad makes you wonder, "Phil, did you fill up the pad?"

"Yes," Coulson says proudly.

"Of a bunch of stories, or of one?"

"This is one story. Why? Too much?"

You flip through the pages. “I just want to make sure I get comfortable. Leave the whiskey bottle please,” she begs as Grant pours more in the glass.


End file.
